


After A While

by DankSide_ofTheMoon



Category: Spies In Disguise (2019)
Genre: :(((, Angst, For the angst, Hurt No Comfort, Minor Violence, Minor is subjective, Read at Your Own Risk, Sad Ending, This is Just My Attempt at Tragedy, Why Did I Write This?, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:29:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25597315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DankSide_ofTheMoon/pseuds/DankSide_ofTheMoon
Summary: A one-shot in which Killian won.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	After A While

The shores of the north sea begged for brooding, Killian thought. 

The agency was vanquished - Gone, scattered to the wind; the wind that whipped around the cliff's face and which, to Killian’s surprise, now chilled him to the bone. He had not felt cold for a long time. 

He had not felt  _ anything  _ for a long time.

Repressing a shiver before backing away from the edge of the opening, Killian returned to the screen - still plastered with faces of the agency. A certain tranquility crested over him when he realized that every face on display was either dismembered, ridden with bullets, or drowned. The red stared back at him; now plaques of achievement rather than mechanical promises. Pride swelled sweetly to the roof of his mouth and tension fell from his shoulders. The first genuine smile Killian could remember in a long time graced his features. 

He let his eyes roam across the screen before landing on a singular face, and Killian’s smile withered and died.

_ Walter _ . The photo had caught his eye as it was one of the few which depicted a smile larger than life. It was blinding - even below the red tint and large, crimson, “X” that demonized the expressions and distorted the features. He stared at it for a minute, before reaching for the motherboard beneath the platform.

Killian wasn’t sure what made him scrape the commands that linked the drones to the database; reverting the screens back to color. One by one, the glow of red was replaced by the crisp blue and the faces returned to the screen, unmarred. Some professional, others impassive - more, twisted in a sheepish grin. They stared out from their boxes; eyes level to a space far behind him. 

He tried to focus on the kid. Fluffy brown hair, eyes as blue as his own and a rounded face that made him appear all the more juvenile identified the Beckett boy. Enshrouded in a snowy lab coat and a plaid shirt that rivaled the ugliest design Killian had ever seen, he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. 

The kid was smiling so hard his cheeks had turned red with strain. It was a smile that couldn’t be faked and Killian felt his stomach churn. He had not seen the smile in person. In fact, the last he had seen of the kid was a look of sheer terror; followed by pain when Killian had willed the M9 to aim its Gatling downwards. The spray of lead had disconnected whatever gum-like adhesive the boy had shot at him and ended his screams. And Killian had watched as the small body tumbled from the sky - sure to give up its soul before hitting the earth below.

The rest was history. Sterling, he had executed simply with a bullet to the stomach and called it a courtesy. After the fight he had put up, Killian granted him as much; spared him the sight of his underlings made target practice. Not that he cared how the rest of them went out; for after exhausting whatever oddities that they were using, Killian let the rest of the M9s rain fire down from on high. 

When the dust settled, he had won.

It was over.

Except Killian was still staring at the boy’s face, his vision beginning to blur. He rubbed his right eye vigorously and blamed it on the brightness of the screens when his hand came away wet. 

_ You don’t have to do it this way - it won’t make anything better! _

Killian took a step back and suddenly felt like retching. Something was wrapped around his heart; a vice, a coil of iron. He forced himself to take a deep breath - but the frigidity of the air that had once refreshed and invigorated him now stabbed at his lungs. The kid was right. Nothing had changed. 

_ You - were a bunch of bad dudes about to hurt a lot of innocent people. And it’s  _ my _ job to keep everyone safe. _

Sterling had not apologized even at the end. Not that Killian cared to hear an apology. His suffering had sufficed and his death - closure; a small suture to the wound in his heart. So then why did he feel no better than before? 

The faces that now shone a revitalized blue were suddenly too much for him to bear. Killian stumbled backward, away from the screen, from those eyes that no longer see, from faces that were now food for the worms.  _ Vengeance was expensive _ , he had been told; that it often led to the digging of two graves. He didn’t remember who had said that; only that they were dead as well; those words being a token to their demise.

A distant thunder roared across the sea - rattling within his skull. The faces on the screen flickered, and Killian knew that it was time to go. Perhaps he’ll visit Paris. Bolivia. Morocco. The sane part of him argued that he’ll travel the world. Find something else; perhaps someone else to share his melancholy with. To keep his mind from rotting with the dead, he’ll feast on the wonders of the world.

He’ll like to believe that’s what he’ll do. Killian tried to convince himself that it’ll take a year to register the satisfaction of his accomplishments. Then perhaps he’ll never have to revisit Kyrgyzstan...Never have to make his peace. After a while, he hopes it’ll all fade away.

“Forgive me,” he said to no one in particular. Truly, Killian just wanted to feel the words roll from his tongue. After a while, he had banished all feelings of remorse for the sake of survival. After a while, he had missed the grip of conscience. 

Killian’s steps echoed towards the exit of the facility, wounding around the structure like twisted wind chimes. He made his way to the stone obelisk set behind the structure - a helipad with his method of transport resting atop. A pair of M9s trailed behind him. Not that he needed guarding. After a while, he just missed the company.

If vengeance had smothered his soul, the final infusion of sense might end his life. Killian climbed into the helicopter and began to set its course. He’ll give himself a year to settle his affairs. Then he would make a trip back to where it all began - and pay respects to some old friends.

After a while, it’s time to let go.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Oooooooo- Do you feel it? That sorrow? Rrrrrrrrrrrolling around you like a foooooooooooooooooggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg-?


End file.
